


wrong place, wrong time

by becsbunker



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:33:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becsbunker/pseuds/becsbunker





	wrong place, wrong time

**Summary : Lonely and in a loveless marriage, you decide to spend a night for yourself. That night you end up meeting Tommy Shelby.**

 

> **Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader**
> 
> **Warnings: cheating, smut, nsfw, language, Tommy being an ass, angst**

 

The scent of smoke and whiskey still lingered on his breath, intoxicating you as his lips hovered over yours. Breathy moans were shared between you, panting desperately as his hips thrust against you, driving into you with a steady pace. Your nails dug into the muscles of his back, leaving indents against his skin; which he seemed to relish in.

You hooked your legs around him, helping him reach impossibly deeper - the sounds immersing from you seemingly becoming from a voice you didn't even recognise.

It had been too long since you'd felt this inexplicable ecstasy through your veins. The lust. The need. The want.

This handsome, mysterious stranger with hypnotic icy blue eyes had brought that all flooding back to you in the very short time you'd known him.

You were drowning your sorrows in Camden just a few hours prior when he came strolling through in his long coat and cap. It wasn't usual for you to fall for the charms of a man, but this man was something else entirely.

He could obviously tell you were here with the intention to drink the night away, to forget whatever was on your mind.

Hell, he definitely helped you forget.

 

* * *

 

 

You were staring up at the ceiling in the bed of his very decor home, your breath slowly dwindling to it's normal pace. The sound of the fire crackling in the room was somewhat eerie, considering it was a similar occurrence at your own home.

Except, you were always alone in your bed.

"You want a smoke?" His voice was smooth after the brief silence, almost a welcoming sound.

"Please." You sat yourself up, leaning against the headboard.

The stranger reached over to grab two cigarettes, your eyes falling on the tattoos on his body. Placing one between his lips, he lit it. His eyes held on yours when he gently passed it to your own lips, the act felt so intimate, so  _normal_.

None of this was normal.

"Can you tell me your name?" He asked, taking a drag of the cigarette as his eyes trailed over your body, falling on the gold wedding ring around your finger.

You blew out a shaky breath of smoke, shaking your head.

"It hardly matters, does it?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on whether your husband will come to kill me," he was so nonchalant as he spoke, it irritated you to no end.

Some part of you wished your husband would feel that kind of anger towards a man who slept with his wife. In reality, he wouldn't give a damn. He wouldn't even notice you were gone.

"Trust me, your life is safe," you scoffed, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, not bothering to pull the sheet to cover you.

"My husband doesn't give a fucking damn about me. He's far too busy with his work and his whores. You're more likely to be killed by a Peaky Blinder than Charles Fulbright."

You didn't see the amused smile that briefly crossed his face.

"The Charles Fulbright who owns his own racehorses, eh?"

You looked over your shoulder with a frown. "You know him?"

He simply shook his head, putting out his cigarette on the tray by the bedside before shuffling up to sit behind you with his arms around you.

"I would like to meet him, though."

You gave a quizzical look. "Why?"

"I'm a business man."

You hesitated for a moment, your mind running with various possible connections as to who this man was.

Then, you asked him.

"Tommy Shelby," he answered, the words ringing through your head like alarm bells.

Of course you had heard of Tommy Shelby and the Peaky Blinders. Your husband and his loyal group of followers with the pretty women draped on their arms, often complained about the Shelby's and how they were bad for business.

How could you be so stupid? Out of all the men you could spend a night with, it had to be one of them.

Charles might not give a damn about your marriage and vows, but he'd see this as a betrayal.

"I have to leave," you got to your feet, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray before gathering your clothes.

You tugged on your dress, haphazardly covering yourself as the panic drowned you.

You could hear Tommy putting on his trousers before approaching you.

"You don't have to leave, Y/N."

You spun to face him, anger replacing the panic on your face. He knew your name.

"Did you know who I was back at the bar?"

His silence spoke volumes, setting off tears in your eyes. You felt so used. So humiliated.

"God, you're a fucking arsehole!" You spat, your hand meeting his cheek with a swift slap.

Tommy blinked, showing no emotion at the impact.

"Is that a yes for the meeting?"

"Go fuck yourself!" You yelled, grabbing your purse and leaving, trying to quiet your broken sobs as you rushed down the stairs and out of the house.


End file.
